


Heirs

by littlehutbeach



Series: Infernal Affairs [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Edom Angst (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Established Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M, Magnus Bane in Edom, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehutbeach/pseuds/littlehutbeach
Summary: Asmodeus finally has Magnus reigning beside him in Edom and awaits the arrival of another heir.
Relationships: Lorenzo Rey/Andrew Underhill, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Series: Infernal Affairs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1987546
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	1. Edom

**ALEC**

Asmodeus’ magic felt as familiar as Magnus’, yet it reacted to Alec so violently. It was frightening, and Alec wasn’t used to associating that emotion with his boyfriend. The rush of glowing red magic that then wrapped around Alec’s neck slammed him so hard against the wall that he briefly lost consciousness. His head throbbed painfully as he struggled to open his eyes. Something hot and wet slid down the back of his neck. Blood. A few dark spots swam in front of Alec and he couldn’t quite focus until suddenly Asmodeus was before him, so close he could see every golden speck in his golden-green eyes. 

“And how did this cat get dragged in?” Asmodeus wondered aloud, grabbing Alec’s jaw and digging his nails in, drawing a moan out of Alec. It hurt. Was he trying to break his jaw? Next thing he knew, Asmodeus’ tongue was licking the side of his face with a rough tongue that felt like a cat’s. “Hmm, Nephilim blood is such a delicacy around here.” 

Edom’s hot air was suffocating enough without a noose around his neck. Alec finally regained enough strength to struggle and try to push the greater demon away from him, though it turned out to be useless when his hands were then pinned by more magic above his head, followed by his legs. The inquisitive look on Asmodeus' face made him feel like a bug under a microscope about to be dissected. 

“Where’s Magnus?” Alec ground out when Asmodeus stepped back. 

Something like disbelief flickered in Asmodeus’ intrigued expression before it turned into amusement and he laughed. “So you thought you’d come here, and what?” The greater demon picked up Alec’s stele from where it was dropped on the floor. It briefly flowed bright red in the hands of a fallen angel before he snapped it in half and threw it somewhere to the side. “I assume you’re here to ‘rescue’ him, hmm?” He proceeded to walk back to his throne and sit down without a care in the world. The handle of Asmodeus’ cane glowed a dark red as he twirled it around, occasionally tapping it on the side of the twisted metal where the demon lounged. “What if I told you my son doesn’t wanna go anywhere?”

Alec wrenched his body forward with all the strength he had, swallowing down a grunt when his joints protested at the rough treatment. He knew it wouldn’t free him, only the demon himself could do that, but he still tried. “He wouldn’t stay here!” Alec growled. “His home is with me. Where are you keeping him?”

“I’m not a prisoner Alexander.” Listening to the sound of that all too familiar voice was a huge relief for Alec. He could almost breathe better. 

Magnus walked out from somewhere behind the throne. More like sauntered over to the middle of the room. He wore a crown with thorns atop his head similar to the one his father had, only made of what seemed like silver. A few drops of dark blood ran down his temples. But what drew a gasp of surprise from Alec were the sharp claws with dark leathery skin that expertly twirled a dagger like it was a toy—the same hands that once held the back of Alec’s head and delicately played with the short hairs there as they kissed on silky golden sheets.

“Magnus… what…” Alec’s voice trailed off. Whether it was the blood loss or the tight noose around his neck, Alec started to find it hard to concentrate. He wondered if this place was making him hallucinate; if he was seeing what Asmodeus wanted him to see.

In the blink of an eye, Magnus was right in front of him with the dagger pressed tight against Alec’s jugular. Alec froze, but he wasn’t scared and he allowed his tense muscles to relax. This was a ruse. Magnus was playing a part to get them out of here. They could do this and get out together. Yes, they’d be alright. 

“You shouldn’t have come here, Alexander,” Magnus whispered in his ear, lovingly kissing his cheek before pulling back. The sharp edge slid away from his jugular but dug a little deeper somewhere else, drawing blood that ran down his chest. Still, Alec was unafraid and Magnus realized this. “You’re not afraid.” He seemed puzzled. “Why?”

“I love you, baby. I know you’d never hurt me.” Alec whispered low enough so that only Magnus would hear him. He wished he could touch Magnus and reassure him that everything would be okay and they’d get out of here together but Asmodeus was still watching them like a hawk.

Magnus didn’t say anything for a whole minute. Then, right before Alec’s eyes, Magnus' entire demeanor changed. He twitched like he had a crick in his neck after spending hours pouring over his spellbooks. Slowly, a whole row of sharp teeth grew in Magnus’ mouth that Alec had only seen from the maw of a demon. Alec’s breath caught in his throat at the gory sight. His suspicions about some sort of hallucinogenic in the air started to make more sense. He shut his eyes tight, trying to scrub the image out of his mind, hoping it’d go away, but when he opened them again Magnus was still there looking the same. This time his cat eyes stared back at him with something Alec had never seen before: malice. 

“Is that a challenge?” This wasn’t Magnus. It couldn’t be. That deep, guttural voice didn’t belong to him. Next thing Alec knew, that mouth bit down hard into his shoulder. It burned bright and hot like someone pressed a branding iron into him. Alec screamed but it died in his throat when a clawed hand raised his shirt, softly caressed him, and then harshly dug into his lower belly. 

Before he blacked out, Alec heard Asmodeus laugh. 


	2. Repercussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While in hiding with Lorenzo, Andrew deals with the aftermath of what Iris Rouse did to him.

**ANDREW**

As usual, Andrew woke up before Lorenzo. 

Years of service had ruined Andrew’s ability to sleep in late. Every morning, like clockwork, he woke up at 6:30 AM. Today was no different. Andrew opened his eyes and stretched, lifting his arms high above his head until he touched the grey headboard above. It felt so good to stretch his sore muscles. His back popped in at least three different places, drawing a soft exhale from him and relaxing his back muscles. 

The soft sheets covering him slid down his body, sending a cold chill through him. He yawned and almost turned on his stomach before remembering the obvious problem with that idea and instead stayed on his back, frozen. Staring at the top of the canopy bed presented its own set of problems. The mirrors above freaked him out at first, made him self-conscious of the sexual activities he got up to with Lorenzo after his body started changing. Of course, Lorenzo then got rid of the offending object. He was so sweet and accommodating time and time again. Andrew felt terrible for his inability to go back to _before_ and hated himself a little bit more every time he failed at connecting with Lorenzo. 

Every fiber of Andrew’s being wished he could make it all go away—the nightmares, anger, helplessness—and go back to being himself. Out of sheer stubbornness, Andrew made Lorenzo put the damn mirror back, and was grateful for how supportive Lorenzo continued to be even when Andrew knew he didn’t make sense. 

Today was a bad day. 

The same mirror above him that helped Andrew feel better about himself, once upon a time, was also unforgiving now. It showed the soft curve of his belly under the blanket and stood in stark contrast to the rest of his body, which should have been flat and muscular. Instead, a foreign presence now resided there and made itself known every day. Andrew couldn't ignore the fact that there was a new life growing in a place that shouldn’t be a part of his body when someone else had decided to use him as a guinea pig and turned his life upside down.

Before getting up, Andrew glanced sideways at Lorenzo to make sure his boyfriend was still asleep. Lorenzo’s eyes were closed, his chest rose and fell rhythmically and his face remained blank in sleep. The knowledge that he had some semblance of privacy spurred Andrew on to explore on his own without feeling guilty for his curiosity. While still keeping a close eye on the man lying next to him, Andrew took a deep breath and slowly slid his hand down his torso until he reached the curve of his lower belly. It felt like a tumbling inside but only a soft thump against his hand at the first touch. Andrew flinched and took his hand back like his own body had burned and betrayed him. 

More often than not, that’s what it felt like. 

When his chest started to feel tight, like someone was squeezing his insides, Andrew knew he had to get up before Lorenzo noticed his heavy breathing and headed for the en suite to get himself under control. Thankfully, the door shut softly behind him. He had just enough time to sit on the tiled floor with his back to the clawfoot tub and his head between his bent legs before an onslaught of overwhelming emotions washed over him. Andrew put a hand over his mouth to stifle the worst of the pitiful sobs coming from himself. He felt utterly pathetic in his inability to keep it together and prayed to every angel out there that Lorenzo wouldn’t see him like this. 

Andrew couldn’t stand the thought of Lorenzo staring at him with helplessness in his eyes. Or the anger, even if it wasn’t directed at him. Every day, Andrew was afraid that Lorenzo would snap and leave their safe house to seek some sort of retribution. It wasn’t safe out there, Lorenzo could get killed. They had too many enemies looking for them, and they were never going to stop. 

All thanks to a woman who wanted to play God. 

Iris Rouse made him the host of a devious plan to help repopulate her kind without asking Andrew whether he wanted to be her guinea pig and now his relationship with Lorenzo was going to hell. The worst part was knowing that at the end of the nine months he wouldn’t be able to keep the child growing within him. Because it wasn’t his. The magic and DNA that made the impossible happen wasn’t related in any way to Lorenzo or himself. He couldn’t even bring himself to end the innocent life growing inside of him. Every instinct in him rebelled against the idea. Yet, he still couldn’t accept _It_ , either. Since finding out that some warlock worked her magic to make the impossible happen with him as her unwilling subject, Andrew hadn’t been able to even look at himself in the mirror.

How could he? Before all this, Iris Rouse had only been a name on a file and a case he’d never been a part of. Lorenzo had only known her briefly before and never entertained a relationship. At the end of the day, Andrew was collateral damage on a personal vendetta that didn’t involve him. And at the end of the nine months, more or less, the child would go to its real parents. So, how could Andrew allow himself to grow attached? He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Because allowing himself to think about the child, to care and worry for _It_ would only lead to more pain. More heartbreak for Lorenzo, who had never allowed himself to admit his longing for a family until just before this tragedy randomly happened to Andrew. With the Clave going through a reform and the Downworld more or less at peace with the law, they’d finally been at a point in their lives where they felt ready to take that next step and add another member to their family through adoption. Then shit hit the fan and just when Andrew began to piece together what had been done to him, they discovered the truth: the miracle wasn’t theirs. 

Andrew and Lorenzo were only pawns in a game of chess between Azazel and Asmodeus with Iris Rouse as the executioner of said plans. Iris Rouse kidnapped and experimented on Andrew for weeks before she was successful. During those weeks, Andrew was poked and prodded without his consent; violated and humiliated in unimaginable ways. He couldn’t recall everything, it was all buried under a foggy curtain of magic and a steady stream of potions to keep him compliant until Iris figured out what worked and what didn’t. What he did remember was the gut-wrenching agony from that first, and last, escape attempt. 

The memory of the blood and gore spilling from between his legs as he painstakingly attempted to run down that filthy hallway thinking Iris was gone would never leave his memory no matter how long he lived. His previously parted legs closed immediately at the memory. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t even curl upon himself, afraid to make the thing inside him squirm around.

In just a second, all the work he’d put into forgetting that terrible night went out the window and he could feel the warm blood running down his legs from unknown places. Andrew had been groggy and confused, in unsurmountable pain, and he still ran. Until Iris caught up to him just as he’d caught a glimpse of the warehouse’s exit just up ahead. She didn’t try to stop him. Iris calmly leaned against a pillar and watched him stumble, falling forward onto his knees from shock and blood loss. Without saying anything, she’d sighed in a way that reminded Andrew of an exasperated mother who couldn’t believe her recalcitrant child was getting up to some trouble yet again and advanced on him. 

Andrew had watched her approach him and panicked knowing full well that nothing good ever came out of having that woman anywhere near him. He’d groaned in pain as he pathetically attempted to crawl away, shivering the whole time, and almost cried when he felt Iris’ magic running along his body to stop him. One minute he was laying on the wet ground and then the next he was right back on the same table as before. Only this time he was fully aware of the restraints around his wrists, ankles, and across his chest while Iris stood by his spread legs peering down into him. 

Iris tutted. “Andrew, don’t you know better?” Two gloved fingers reached somewhere inside him without a warning, making a disgusting squelching sound and Andrew cried out. He wanted to get away from the pain of those invading fingers as they moved around inside, checking for something. Maybe the source of the bleeding. Whatever it was, Andrew wanted them gone now. He wanted the pain to stop. 

“Please, stop!” Andrew remembered squirming and begging, even screaming, until his voice died out when Iris grew tired of his pleas and forcefully shut him up with a gag she conjured out of nowhere. 

STOP STOP STOP

“Andrew, open your eyes.” A soft voice whispered in his ear. “ _Mi amor, te lo suplico, abre tus ojos. Mírame. Todo está bien_.” 

A combination of Lorenzo’s voice and kisses along his jaw snapped Andrew out of the terrible memory. His eyes snapped wide open and he fought to hold on to the present with Lorenzo in their bathroom instead of that awful place. Andrew’s whole body was coiled like a spring ready to snap while his hands dug into his thighs in a bruising grip and he struggled to get his breathing under control. As if it could sense Andrew’s despair, that something inside of him shifted trying to get comfortable, which sent him spiraling again. 

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Admitting his weakness was difficult. But watching Lorenzo’s expression turn pained hurt the most. Seeing the man he loved grow sad and regretful made Andrew wish he hadn’t said anything. Reaching for Lorenzo with trembling hands, Andrew allowed himself to bask in the other man’s presence and accept his attempt to comfort him for the first time in who knew how long. Weeks, maybe. A little bit of the wall Andrew had built around himself started to crumble. 

“I’m sorry.” Lorenzo murmured into Andrew’s hair while he ran one of his broad hands up and down Andrew’s back. “I’m sorry for… this.” He didn’t have to say it in so many words; Andrew knew damn well what he meant and chose to ignore it. 

“It’s not your fault.” Andrew hated the edge of panic that still clung to his voice, and how breathless he felt. He could feel Lorenzo’s hand curling around his and was able to draw strength from him—yet, he couldn’t reconcile the image of his own body carrying the magical life of a child inside him. 

He probably never would. And he shouldn’t. It was better that way. If he did accept it, Andrew was afraid of what it would mean for himself and Lorenzo three months from now when Magnus somehow rose from Edom to claim his child. Because he would. Magnus had promised. Or more like threatened to. 

Whatever Asmodeus did to Magnus, the warlock wasn’t the same anymore, and Andrew was scared to even ask Lorenzo what a Prince of Hell could do to a Nephilim trapped in Edom. 

Would they ever see Alec again? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“My love, I beg you, open your eyes. Look at me. Everything is going to be okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> In this AU, Edom wasn't destroyed and Asmodeus is out of Limbo. I imagine there was yet another crisis in the Downworld that required bringing Asmodeus back as a last resort but something went wrong and so here we are.
> 
> As of now, this story is finished but I might add some more later.


End file.
